Tonight I could complain of my sore throat, low-grade fever, and major fatigue....but I am not. Besides, I nipped it in the bud and went to the doc right away. Thanks to my mom who was able and willing to keep an eye on the store, I was able go. These are the times that I think, how lucky I am to have family close by and willing to help out when needed? Not many people are as lucky to be able to have such wonderful parents. So, instead of complaining I am going to be thankful....thank God for doctors, medicine, and that I am not feeling as bad as someone worse off than me.
Speaking of being thankful......
There were times in the past that I had to move back home, get a hand me down car, and start all over. Those times were very tough on me. Not because I was moving back home but because of the reason I had to move. Not because I had to drive a car that I really didn't care for, but because I had to get rid of the one I loved. Every time I felt that I was on my way to feeling complete, something happened that took me back to having to start all over. It really makes one appreciate what they do have and the ones who stood by your side the entire time.
What I am thankful for today....
I am thankful for all the times my friends gave me a ride, let me stay with them, let me cry on their shoulder, gave me money when I was broke, loved Gavin as if he were their own child, loved me even when I hated myself.
I am thankful for all the wonderful things my parents did to help me raise my son. I am thankful that they allowed me to come back home, gave me a roof over my head, a car to drive, food, money, and respected me as a mother. They not only took me under their roof, but my son and my pets. It just shows you that parents will do anything to help out their child when their child is in need.....at any age. I could never in words express how grateful I am for what they did.
Because of these wonderful people in my life, I am where I am today. I am thankful for what I have. My car is not my dream car, my house is not my dream house, and I really could use a new wordrobe.....however......at least I have a car, a home and clothes to wear....these are all material anyway. What matters most to me is the happiness and health of my children, the moments we get to share together and with our family. What makes me happy is to give to someone else, even if it is only a smile to brighten their day. I have my parents to thank for that.
I hope that my children grow up to be giving, respectful and caring of others. If I can achieve that than I have done my job. I want them to know that life is not about the things we can buy, but the things we can give to others. Life is not about us, it is about what we can do to make other people's lives better. I feel that those who only ever think of themselves are the ones who end up alone....just what I have seen through out the years. I want my children to feel as loved, appreciated, and full-filled as I do thanks to all of my friends and family. I know that because of all the wonderful people in my life, that I can achieve anything and I will never be alone. I thank God for everyone who is in my life.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Santa Claus, Tickety Tock and Mike Wasowski
My loving husband bought our daughter a talking Santa. Or, should I call it an answering Santa? When you ask this Santa certain questions it will answer you. It is very very cute....at least for the first five minutes. I am sure you are guessing right...no it doesn't have an OFF switch. Don't you just love those kind of toys? One thing about my husband is that he lives for sales and clearance items. Oh, I forgot to mention YARD SALES! He has calmed down a lot since we have gotten together. Maybe he is tired of going through all of his bins in the attic?
Well, there is a standing joke with my mom that my step-grandmother Edna makes toys go off. It is probably because she was fun and silly and loved animals and children. She never had any of her own. Yes, she has passed. In fact it was only matter of a month or two that she passed after my grandfather {see yesterday's blog}. I remember when I lived with my parents after my divorce to my sons father, going down to the basement to do laundry. The basement was where my son had his playroom. One thing I didn't mention in yesterdays story is that my grandfather also was an avid picture taker (I won't say photographer since he was not professional) and he also painted. His paintings were mostly of Edna. Down in the basement my parents had one of his paintings of Edna. Almost every time I passed this painting I said hello to her and told her I missed her. This particular day I came up the stairs and faintly heard something talking. Now, thankfully my mother was there so I knew I was not hearing things. Cautiously I walked down the stairs to hear it again. It was my sons Tickety Tock from Blue's Clues. You must know that it says a number of phrases. However, on this day all it would say is, "Hi, I am Tickity!" Laughing, I told my mom that I had said hi to Edna's painting. We both agree that she was saying Hi back.
Another time when I was vacuuming, home all alone, I hear a faint noise. So, I turn off the vacuum, to hear, "I've got my eye on you!" You can imagine the goose bumps I got at that moment. I knew my son had a Mike Wasowski talking toy from Monsters Inc....love that movie! It said the same comment again. Like the Tickety Tock, it says about 5 different phrases. This time I was determined to make this thing stop. I was thinking...ok, something is laying on top of it to make it do that. The batteries must be dying....etc. I take it out of the toy box and sit it on top of it. I start vacuuming again to hear this thing say, "I've got my eye on you." Out loud, I said, "Ok Edna, I get it....you've got your eye on me." It stopped. (No, I didn't take out the batteries and I didn't get rid of it either....the thought did cross my mind.)
Then came this morning. The talking Santa laying on the back of the couch. I am sitting there thinking....will Makenna notice if I hide it until next year? I didn't have the heart to hide Santa even though I was not looking forward to it answering again. I sit down with my coffee to check my email which is my daily morning routine once Gavin is off to school. Makenna is a late sleeper so I always have time to myself in the morning. So, Santa starts talking.....and talking....and I cannot get this thing to shut up! So, I run it into the mudroom and stuck a bunch of coats on top of it. Do you know that this thing went off all day?!?!?!?! My thought now is.......Edna must have loved yesterdays blog....a lot! I just wish she would pick less annoying toys.
Well, there is a standing joke with my mom that my step-grandmother Edna makes toys go off. It is probably because she was fun and silly and loved animals and children. She never had any of her own. Yes, she has passed. In fact it was only matter of a month or two that she passed after my grandfather {see yesterday's blog}. I remember when I lived with my parents after my divorce to my sons father, going down to the basement to do laundry. The basement was where my son had his playroom. One thing I didn't mention in yesterdays story is that my grandfather also was an avid picture taker (I won't say photographer since he was not professional) and he also painted. His paintings were mostly of Edna. Down in the basement my parents had one of his paintings of Edna. Almost every time I passed this painting I said hello to her and told her I missed her. This particular day I came up the stairs and faintly heard something talking. Now, thankfully my mother was there so I knew I was not hearing things. Cautiously I walked down the stairs to hear it again. It was my sons Tickety Tock from Blue's Clues. You must know that it says a number of phrases. However, on this day all it would say is, "Hi, I am Tickity!" Laughing, I told my mom that I had said hi to Edna's painting. We both agree that she was saying Hi back.
Another time when I was vacuuming, home all alone, I hear a faint noise. So, I turn off the vacuum, to hear, "I've got my eye on you!" You can imagine the goose bumps I got at that moment. I knew my son had a Mike Wasowski talking toy from Monsters Inc....love that movie! It said the same comment again. Like the Tickety Tock, it says about 5 different phrases. This time I was determined to make this thing stop. I was thinking...ok, something is laying on top of it to make it do that. The batteries must be dying....etc. I take it out of the toy box and sit it on top of it. I start vacuuming again to hear this thing say, "I've got my eye on you." Out loud, I said, "Ok Edna, I get it....you've got your eye on me." It stopped. (No, I didn't take out the batteries and I didn't get rid of it either....the thought did cross my mind.)
Then came this morning. The talking Santa laying on the back of the couch. I am sitting there thinking....will Makenna notice if I hide it until next year? I didn't have the heart to hide Santa even though I was not looking forward to it answering again. I sit down with my coffee to check my email which is my daily morning routine once Gavin is off to school. Makenna is a late sleeper so I always have time to myself in the morning. So, Santa starts talking.....and talking....and I cannot get this thing to shut up! So, I run it into the mudroom and stuck a bunch of coats on top of it. Do you know that this thing went off all day?!?!?!?! My thought now is.......Edna must have loved yesterdays blog....a lot! I just wish she would pick less annoying toys.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
It's Cold In Here and I am the lucky one!
For most of you who know me, you know that I am not sceptic about life after death, ghosts, and things to that nature. Some may think I am nuts which is perfectly ok since sometimes I am...LOL! Honestly I really do not care about the negative opinions of others at this point in my life. What I care about is what I feel, experience and what is real to me.
Sitting here on my laptop working on my website, the room suddenly got 'still'. Yes, that is the only way I can describe it and no I am not drinking. I stopped typing only to feel like someone was blowing cold air on the right side of my body. And, it lasted for well over 10 seconds. Of course I am looking at everything that could be moving because of this 'wind'. However, the only thing moving was the hair on my arm. (Two of my cats were also on my bed....not even flinching.) Now my thoughts wander to ....which one of you is it this time? Yes, I do know that I am guided through life by all of my loved ones who have passed on. They let me know all the time that they are there. Consider me lucky since I am at peace with the idea that they are not really gone from me. Not many people experience the feelings I get, which may scare some people. I absolutely live for it. It makes me aware of the fact that death is not the end. It is just the end for our bodies.
I am trying to become more aware of their presence by stopping the moment I feel something instead of going on with whatever I am involved with. I take the moment to thank them and make them aware that I know they are there. Lately my grandfather has been speaking to me through the gift of writing. I actually forgot how good it feels to just sit down and write about my day. My grandfather was ALWAYS writing; stories, poetry, letters, you name it. I was the lucky one who inherited all of his writings. Most people would just toss it all aside, maybe even throw it out. Me...well it took me about 5 years to actually read it....mostly because it made me cry everytime I did. When it came down to it, I missed him. This Christmas I decided to open that drawer full with the memories, love letters and poetry that filled my grandfathers life and do something creative with it. This is where my scrapbooking comes in hand. What am I going to do with the piles of paper in my hands, most in which I could not read. Some were faded, disinigrating in front of my eyes because they had aged. Mostly I could not read some because my grandfather had the worst handwriting. Lucky for me, some were typed.
My wonderful neighbor Diane came rushing over when I asked her for help reading these. I needed an extra pair of eyes....at least. Once I photo copied some originals that I knew would never make it a couple more years, I had gathered enough to complete one full scrapbook for my father. The poems and letters that were hand written I typed up so that they were legable. In the scrapbook album I included my typed version and a photo copy of my grandfathers. My feelings are that it is always a gift when you see the handwritting of a love one who has passed.....even if you cannot read it.
There are no pictures in this book. Really, you do not need any. When you read my grandfathers writing, you see, feel, smell, and taste everything he writes about. Don't worry, he did write about food since he went out for dinner every single night. How he lived to be in his 80's I can say must have been his one true love. It certainly was not his diet.
I did manage to make a scrapbook for my brother as well. They were not identical but very much alike. I knew that he would appreciate the gift just as much as my dad. On Christmas day, the scrapbooks were one of the last two gifts given out. I had my dad and brother open them at the same time. I was not surprised when my brother busted out in tears. However, I was surprised that my dad reached for his hanky...ya know, red bandana in the back pocket. I swear he has had them all his life. It takes a lot for my father to cry....or at least in front of anyone. I look around the room to see everyone has tears but no idea what my dad and my brother had received. See, in my family once one person cries you can pretty much bet that most people in the room will join them....or leave. When my brother said the words, "This is a scrapbook of my grandfathers unpublished poetry"....the tissues started being handed out. Both of them thanked me in their tearful, shaky voices. I know they will appreciate it even more once they read it all. One of the poems my grandfather wrote was from 1939.
Now, the spiritual side to this is something my father told me and my neighbors a few days after Christmas. We were sitting at my neighbors table when Diane asked my dad if he liked his gift. My dad responded by saying that it was the best gift ever....wow, I didn't expect that! Anyway, he mentioned that he still could not read it because it was still to painful for him. However, he did manage to read the first couple in the book when he first opened it. My dad proceeded to tell us that a couple days before Christmas he decided to route through some of my grandfathers poetry...I am thinking....THERE'S MORE! Dad was specifically looking for a certain poem titled I'm Goin' Down to Wassergass. Despite his efforts, he could not find it and gave up looking. Then comes Christmas day. My dad opens his scrapbook to see that the first poem in the book is titled, I'm Goin' Down to Wassergass.
In closing, I will say that your loved ones who are no longer here on earth, speak through you...if you listen. My grandfather had everything to do with me putting that poem first in that book. He knew my dad was looking for it.
Sitting here on my laptop working on my website, the room suddenly got 'still'. Yes, that is the only way I can describe it and no I am not drinking. I stopped typing only to feel like someone was blowing cold air on the right side of my body. And, it lasted for well over 10 seconds. Of course I am looking at everything that could be moving because of this 'wind'. However, the only thing moving was the hair on my arm. (Two of my cats were also on my bed....not even flinching.) Now my thoughts wander to ....which one of you is it this time? Yes, I do know that I am guided through life by all of my loved ones who have passed on. They let me know all the time that they are there. Consider me lucky since I am at peace with the idea that they are not really gone from me. Not many people experience the feelings I get, which may scare some people. I absolutely live for it. It makes me aware of the fact that death is not the end. It is just the end for our bodies.
I am trying to become more aware of their presence by stopping the moment I feel something instead of going on with whatever I am involved with. I take the moment to thank them and make them aware that I know they are there. Lately my grandfather has been speaking to me through the gift of writing. I actually forgot how good it feels to just sit down and write about my day. My grandfather was ALWAYS writing; stories, poetry, letters, you name it. I was the lucky one who inherited all of his writings. Most people would just toss it all aside, maybe even throw it out. Me...well it took me about 5 years to actually read it....mostly because it made me cry everytime I did. When it came down to it, I missed him. This Christmas I decided to open that drawer full with the memories, love letters and poetry that filled my grandfathers life and do something creative with it. This is where my scrapbooking comes in hand. What am I going to do with the piles of paper in my hands, most in which I could not read. Some were faded, disinigrating in front of my eyes because they had aged. Mostly I could not read some because my grandfather had the worst handwriting. Lucky for me, some were typed.
My wonderful neighbor Diane came rushing over when I asked her for help reading these. I needed an extra pair of eyes....at least. Once I photo copied some originals that I knew would never make it a couple more years, I had gathered enough to complete one full scrapbook for my father. The poems and letters that were hand written I typed up so that they were legable. In the scrapbook album I included my typed version and a photo copy of my grandfathers. My feelings are that it is always a gift when you see the handwritting of a love one who has passed.....even if you cannot read it.
There are no pictures in this book. Really, you do not need any. When you read my grandfathers writing, you see, feel, smell, and taste everything he writes about. Don't worry, he did write about food since he went out for dinner every single night. How he lived to be in his 80's I can say must have been his one true love. It certainly was not his diet.
I did manage to make a scrapbook for my brother as well. They were not identical but very much alike. I knew that he would appreciate the gift just as much as my dad. On Christmas day, the scrapbooks were one of the last two gifts given out. I had my dad and brother open them at the same time. I was not surprised when my brother busted out in tears. However, I was surprised that my dad reached for his hanky...ya know, red bandana in the back pocket. I swear he has had them all his life. It takes a lot for my father to cry....or at least in front of anyone. I look around the room to see everyone has tears but no idea what my dad and my brother had received. See, in my family once one person cries you can pretty much bet that most people in the room will join them....or leave. When my brother said the words, "This is a scrapbook of my grandfathers unpublished poetry"....the tissues started being handed out. Both of them thanked me in their tearful, shaky voices. I know they will appreciate it even more once they read it all. One of the poems my grandfather wrote was from 1939.
Now, the spiritual side to this is something my father told me and my neighbors a few days after Christmas. We were sitting at my neighbors table when Diane asked my dad if he liked his gift. My dad responded by saying that it was the best gift ever....wow, I didn't expect that! Anyway, he mentioned that he still could not read it because it was still to painful for him. However, he did manage to read the first couple in the book when he first opened it. My dad proceeded to tell us that a couple days before Christmas he decided to route through some of my grandfathers poetry...I am thinking....THERE'S MORE! Dad was specifically looking for a certain poem titled I'm Goin' Down to Wassergass. Despite his efforts, he could not find it and gave up looking. Then comes Christmas day. My dad opens his scrapbook to see that the first poem in the book is titled, I'm Goin' Down to Wassergass.
In closing, I will say that your loved ones who are no longer here on earth, speak through you...if you listen. My grandfather had everything to do with me putting that poem first in that book. He knew my dad was looking for it.
Icy Day
Due to the icy conditions...last night I decided to not open the store today. It ended up being a good thing since my daughter Makenna woke up with hand foot and mouth disease....again. Hopefully having the day with her and staying home will help her get some rest to feel better. If your children have ever had this then you know how much it stinks. There is nothing you can do for it and sometimes it lasts a month. This is her 3rd time with this disease.
Looking out my window today it looks so white and pretty. I had the opportunity to walk to work yesterday while it was snowing. It was quiet, bright white, and serene. It reminded me of when I was a child......
I used to sled down my parents very steep hill. When I got to the bottom, I would just lay in the snow taking in all the beauty around me. The sky was so blue, there were no sounds of birds or any life around. I remember thinking 'how much I wish I had more moments like this.' Then I realized that I had to walk back up the hill and the moment was over. For some reason, the hill doesn't look nearly as big now as it did when I was a kid. However, now it is much more difficult to walk up...what is up with that?
Looking out my window today it looks so white and pretty. I had the opportunity to walk to work yesterday while it was snowing. It was quiet, bright white, and serene. It reminded me of when I was a child......
I used to sled down my parents very steep hill. When I got to the bottom, I would just lay in the snow taking in all the beauty around me. The sky was so blue, there were no sounds of birds or any life around. I remember thinking 'how much I wish I had more moments like this.' Then I realized that I had to walk back up the hill and the moment was over. For some reason, the hill doesn't look nearly as big now as it did when I was a kid. However, now it is much more difficult to walk up...what is up with that?
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